That Elf (Part Two)

That “Helpful” Elf has changed all the radio stations in MY car. Apparently, I must be informed of the traffic reports every 15-F-ING-minutes or we may end up in HUGE GRID LOCK despite the fact, we have no business driving in London (unlike the little Elf) but it seems, he has not only forgotten that it’s MUMMY’S car, but also that MUMMY is NOT a Black Cab Driver. In fact, far from it – I sometimes need to stop to check my Google Map when trying to get to The Town and I’ve lived here for 15 years.

My three-and-three-quarters-daughter is now shouting “OH, DADDY!” Every time ‘Let it Go’ is rudely interrupted by reports of a broken down lorry inside the Dartford Tunnel. Secretly, mummy is pleased that Miss nearly-four is using the U rated version of that phrase. Since Mummy let a little F-Bomb slip the last time and all of a sudden Mr 19 months could say “TRUCK”. It does sound like another word entirely but surely it’s ONLY because he’s just started to learning to talk and I’ve heard boys particularly can get their T’s and F’s mixed up.

I now have the delights of Terry Wogan chatting about T’Pau and hip replacements on BBC Radio 2. Mummy would like the Elf to know that she may be “Middle-aged” but she is by no means ready for Terry Wogan. No offence to Terry Wogan fans. Don’t tell anyone, but I did happen to know ALL the words, to all the songs and they seemed to have REAL, ACTUAL MUSIC rather than all those whistles and beeps the kids are listening to these da…………..Oh, it’s happened, I’ve become my father. One week with Wogan and the Traffic Reports and I’m complaining about the roads and the rubbish the “kids” listen to these days. Anyway, I’ve gotta go….I’ve run out of Barley Sugars see ya xxx

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